


Smile My Boy, It's Sunrise

by blxe_txlip



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Depressed Louis, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Self Harm, Triggers, please please be careful reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:45:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3126611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blxe_txlip/pseuds/blxe_txlip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile My Boy, It's Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> If you are triggered by self harm or alcoholism, please proceed with caution!!! 
> 
> After working on this for forever and a day, I'm done. Title is taken from the last line of Robin William's character in Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb.
> 
> Enjoy!!

At five, he was full of life and energy. Being outside and looking for bugs was his favorite hobby. He and his friends would have running races that started from Louis’ house to the end of the street and back. Friday nights were spent at friends’ houses gorging on food and playing games that his mother would disapprove of.

At ten, he began to feel slightly different. More sad, to be exact. He was the same Louis but a dark cloud was beginning to form. His family dismissed it as hormones as his body was beginning to go through major changes. Louis agreed and went on about his daily life.

By the time he was twelve, he was sat in the counselor’s office at school, eyes red and teary as he confessed, “I want to kill myself.” He didn’t know what had made him say that; however, Louis did notice that the dark cloud that began to form two years earlier began to take over his life. His counselor contacted his mother and set up an appointment with a professional. Louis was grateful because, finally, he would have answer as to what was making him feel miserable about life. Two weeks later, he was diagnosed with mild to major depression. Louis couldn’t believe it - he only thought that happened to old people. Louis had figured that they had been through years of hardship and when they reached a certain age, they became depressed.

Apparently not. “People get depressed all the time. At all ages,” his doctor said. “Some might not even know it.”

Now, at age twenty two, Louis has been on two different medications, spiraled into a deep, dark depression. Anxiety was nearly crippling most of the time. Louis was just a big ball of fun, really. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t miserable. Most days he was neutral. He had a routine: get up, suffer through work, come home, eat and binge watch Netflix. He usually had neutral days. Today wasn’t one of those days. “Fuck fuck fuck. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he chanted quietly as he clawed at his arms. Louis wasn’t sure what he was sorry for. ‘You’re so stupid,’ the voice in his head mocked him. ‘God, no wonder you failed at everything in life. Why continue? Stupid. Look at your thighs. They’re so huge. Don’t eat today. And cover your arms. They look huge as well.’ A sob escaped Louis’ lips. ‘You feel lonely don’t you? No one is ever going to love you. No one loves you. Who would love an ill and fat fucking failure such as yourself? That’s right? No one!’ Louis sobbed again. He grabbed his coat and scarf and put them on. The night chill of London met his hot skin bringing little relief. He fled down the steps, walking towards the park where he always went when he was having a bad night.

Once he got there, Louis plopped down on a swing and cried. He cried for his parents for having to raise him. “If I wasn’t a fuck up, maybe they’d be glad to have me! They could’ve put me up for adoption!” he yelled. His parents tried their best to help Louis, but in his mind, he thought they didn’t try enough. “Parents aren’t supposed to give up on you!” Louis cried for himself; he was lonely and very misunderstood and confused. Some days, he wished that he wasn’t sick. Other days he wished he was buried six feet underground. And God knows Louis would be lying if he hadn’t thought about killing himself before. Maybe if he stood in front of that car, his body would shoot up into the air like a gymnast doing a triple full and landing with such force he would die on impact. But, no. He was smarter than that. Reaching into his coat pocket, he felt around for the small item. His fingers curled around it. He took it out - a blue lighter. Rolling his sleeve up, Louis flicked open the lighter and held it underneath his forearm, letting the flame lick at his skin. This wasn’t a new thing for him. He had second degree burns on his arms but he covered them with bracelets and wearing long sleeves. When Louis finally had enough, he flicked off the lighter and put it away, smoke dancing away from his skin. Louis then curled in on himself and wailed. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Um," Louis hadn’t heard anyone come up. He looked up and saw a tall and lean person standing next to the empty swing next to him. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I, er… Are you okay?" The person had a slow deep drawl that Louis found comforting. Louis sniffed, not answering the stranger. The stranger sat in the empty swing. "You probably don’t want any company right now, but uh…" Louis cut him off with a watery laugh.

"I’m far from okay, but I would like some company.

The stranger relaxed. “Okay. Um, m’name’s Harry.”

"Louis."

"Nice to meet you, Louis." Louis nodded slightly. Silence then ensued. Harry felt awkward for walking in on this poor stranger crying; Louis felt worse because he let someone see him when he’s most vulnerable. Louis heard crinkling. He lifted his head to see Harry take a swig from a brown paper bag. Harry took notice.

"Shit. Right. Um, it’s a’right if I drink, mate?" he asked carefully. Louis nodded again. "Thanks. Er, do you want some?" The stench of something fruity of strong invaded Louis’ nostrils. Harry handed Louis the protected bottle which he took and took a long drink from it. The more alcohol he could consume in one gulp, he realized, the faster he could become numb. "Wow," Harry murmured.

Louis’ vision became slightly blurry. “Sorry,” he apologized. Digging around his coat pocket, Louis found the box of cigarettes. He pulled one out, offering Harry one. Declining, Louis shrugged and lit up. The smoke burned his lungs combined with the alcohol that set his body free of the demons he fought daily felt so good Louis could write a novel about it. “So, what brings you out?”

Taking another sip from the bottle, Harry said, “Well, I went out to get a bottle for my knobhead of a mate Liam, but then he texted me as I was out saying he was with his boyfriend so I should go on home and drink the bottle without him. So I was like, fuck that, I’m not going home. So I ended up walking and here I am.” He paused. Louis was amazed at how fucking slow this stranger talked. He was sure it wasn’t normal, but whatever; he’s cute. “What about you?”

Louis went stiff. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t sure he wanted to come out and say why he was a mess. “I- um, I-…” Harry blinked owlishly. Louis took a deep breath. Might as well get it over with. “Listen, I’m fucking depressed. Not that ‘I’ve had a shit day, I’m depressed when I mean sad,’ I mean actually depressed; the chemicals in my brain are fucked. I’m having a fucking bad night. I self harm because I get /relief./ I’m lonely, angry, guilty, and sad. I know, I know, ‘but you have nothing to be sad about!’ ‘You’re doing it for attention.’ ‘Faker.’ I’ve heard it all.” Louis’ breathing picked up as he vented to Harry. The alcohol was forgotten about as Harry listened. The other man seemed smaller than he actually was, voice breaking and eyes glassy with tears. Suddenly Louis screamed, nearly falling to the ground. Harry was quick to catch him. They both slowly fell to the ground, Louis crying hysterically; he was cradled in Harry’s arms as he rocked him, whispering to him all was okay.

*  
The next morning, Louis woke up with a throbbing headache, eyes nearly shut as they were puffy beyond belief. Huffing, he pulled the covers over his head and went right back to sleep. Upon waking again, his headache had worsened. Louis whined, pushing himself off his bed and went to grab some aspirin. Popping a couple, he retreated back to his bed. As he switched on his television, Louis caught a piece of paper on his nightstand.

_Louis,_

_I know this looks bad, but it’s not. You managed to get out your address. I tucked you in bed and waited until you were asleep. I’m sure you won’t remember, but that’s okay. I don’t want you to think that last night was weird. It wasn’t. Despite what you’re going through at this moment in time, I find you wonderful. If you’re not busy, I’d like to meet up again? Like, for real this time? I’ve left you my number. Send a message when you’re up to it._

_Yours truly,_

_H. x”_

Louis smiled, a smidge of sadness fleeing. He wasn’t going to message Harry yet; he was clingy at times and didn’t want to scare away Harry. Several days later, Louis sent Harry a message. _“Harry! I didn’t mean to avoid you. I’m doing slightly okay. I got your note. I would love to meet up again! How does tomorrow night feel?”_

Minutes later, Harry replied. _“Loooouuuu!! :D I’m so glad you’re doing better! Tomorrow night sounds perfect. Give me a time and a place and I’ll be there.”_

Louis’ phone buzzed and his heart soared. Biting his lip, he typed out to meet him at the ice skating rink around six in the evening. Harry sent back a snowman emoji. Louis laughed like he was five again.

*

The next evening, Louis sat outside the skating rink, rubbing his gloved hands together. The clock read 6:05 and Harry was late. Louis’ anxiety rose each second - his heart was threatening to escape his chest. His hands and legs began to shake. Breaking into a cold sweat, Louis almost passed out. Until he heard Harry’s slow, deep, honey drawl. “Louis!” he waved. He was wearing the tightest of tight jeans, boots that envied Michael Jackson, and a trench coat that was embroidered with a gold design. Life isn’t a fashion show, Louis thought. Harry jogged towards Louis, Louis gave him a small smile.

"Well don’t you look fancy." Louis eyed him like he was a piece of candy. Harry spun around, cheeks flaming. "Shall we?" They headed towards the rink.

"Lou, that’s not fair!" Harry whined. "You’ve skated longer than I have!" He planted his hands on the side of the rink, scooting slowly inch by inch. Meanwhile, Louis was out in the middle of the rink, skating and doing tiny, uncoordinated jumps.

"Oh come on, Harry, skate with me!" Louis said. Harry shook his head, scooting. Skating over to Harry, Louis offered his hand to Harry. Harry took it and together, they moved slowly towards the middle. Harry wobbled, tightening his grip on Louis. Looking up to meet the small boy’s eyes, Harry caught a glimpse of his bright blue eyes, glimmering with hope and happiness. Harry wished to see that look more often, oh God how he wished.

*

After skating, they walked to a little restaurant, eating all the greasy, most unhealthy stuff on the menu. “But, Harry, that’s the entire menu!” Louis was enjoying himself so much that he didn’t have to _think._ They traded information about themselves: Harry was twenty, going to university for his law degree; he had one sister and two parents. Louis had five sisters and one brother (“How does it feel to be the eldest?” Harry asked. “It’s fun,” Louis answered.) Soon, they were sitting back, bellies stuffed. Neither of them talked, which was fine for Harry. Louis, on the other hand, began to regret this whole idea. ‘Hey, did you miss me?’ the voice taunted. ‘You were having such a good night with this fit lad, yeah? Too bad he finds you disgusting. No one wants to deal with a fat fuck like you. He probably saw the way you ate your dinner. Fucking pig. Christ, you better not eat for a few days. I bet Harry likes his men skinny.’ Louis clenched his fists, rearing his foot to kick something. ‘You really like him, don’t you? That’s a shame. He doesn’t like you. No one likes you! Get used to it, you miserable low life!’ Louis growled. It caught Harry’s attention.

"Are y’alright?"

Louis whimpered slightly. ‘He knows. Of course he knows, you fail at hiding your illness.’ Harry quickly went over to the other side of the booth and wrapped his arms around Louis and let Louis cry. Harry waved down the waiter and asked for the bill. He paid and then they left. They went to Harry’s flat. Sitting on the couch, Louis let out shuddering breaths, bouncing his leg up and down. “I’m sorry I ruined, whatever we were doing earlier. Fuck, I am so _sorry._ ” A sob was wedged in his throat.

"Shhh baby, shhh," Harry soothed. "You didn’t ruin anything. I had an amazing time tonight. You are the most wonderful, adorable, smart, fit lad. You know, I’ve never fallen for someone so quickly, but… Lou, you’re… I don’t want to sound cliche, or how do the Americans say it, a ‘fuckboy,’ but goddamn you are different. I mean, I’ve dated boys and girls, but I was curious. Bi-curious as they say. But you’ve changed that? I know that sounds weird, but you’ve made me proud of who I am. You’ve made me realize who I am, and that is, well you can guess for yourself." Harry’s face was red, red _red._ Louis wanted to kiss every inch of his beautiful face.

"Harold, be quiet," Louis softly said. "I think you’re amazing as well. It’s clear as fucking day that I like dick, specifically yours." Harry smiled. "While I may never be mentally stable, I am working on how to love myself. It’s going to be a long, difficult road, and I need you to understand that. I’m going to have bad days, good days, and neutral days. Please be patient with me. And if you can’t do that, then it will be on my way."

Shaking his head, Harry pulled Louis into a hug. “Sweetheart, I will be there every fucking step of the way. I understand completely. I’ll be your cheerleader for the littlest achievements.” Tears of happiness formed in Louis’ eyes. This was the first time he felt like he wasn’t alone in a while and he was so grateful.

For whatever reason, a high power that wasn’t on earth planted Harry in Louis’ life and he had never been so thankful in his life.


End file.
